


Last Chance (To Lose Control)

by Darksilvercat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Rough Sex, Top!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksilvercat/pseuds/Darksilvercat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Dean and Castiel have sex. And some other stuff maybe happens.</i> (Summary by vichan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Chance (To Lose Control)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal on July 9th 2009. Written for big_heart_june. Beta'd by mrstotten. Title pinched from _Hysteria_ by Muse.

Things weren’t going according to plan.

It hadn’t been much of a plan in the first place, they hadn’t had a whole lot of time to think it through, what with the hostage situation currently going down, and in a school no less, though thankfully late enough that there were no kids involved. But Dean and Sam Winchester do not walk into a fight unprepared, and so they’d come up with a spur of the moment idea that ‘ _might just work_ ’.

It had gone well at first, hastily laid lines of salt keeping the demons _in_ for once. Sam spouting off the old _Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino_ from memory, and thank fuck for exorcisms since the evil hand thing wasn’t working anymore. 

It had worked too, the exorcism that is, feeling kinda like old times as Dean warded the demons off with holy water while Sam rushed his way through the incantation and the demons screamed and cursed. The hostages - a bunch of young adults taking an evening acting class apparently - had made a run for it and got clean away, so Dean counted that part as a win at least.

Things had been going just fine in fact. The five demons writhing on the ground covering their ears as though that would stop the Latin from reaching in and ripping them outta their meatsuits; until Dean had felt a horribly familiar pressure in his stomach as an invisible force lifted him off his feet and slammed him back against a wall.

Deja vu just isn’t what it used to be.

Sam is beside him in a heartbeat, the wind and the words knocked out of him, and they both struggle pointlessly as the sixth demon - wearing the body of what Dean suspects to be an actual Calvin Klein model - advances into the room. There is an open door behind him that Dean had assumed to be a closet, but apparently leads into a small office. 

_Damn._

Sam makes a valiant attempt to continue chanting, but then the demon lifts its head, and the words die in his throat.

The creature’s eyes are _yellow_.

Dean thinks he’s just found out how it feels to be blindsided by a ten-tonne truck.

“It can’t be,” Sam moans and his face is frighteningly pale, horror in his eyes as he stares helplessly at the demon. 

But it doesn’t speak, doesn’t so much as smirk as it advances on the brothers. Half of Dean’s brain is repeating the same horrified mantra of _no, not possible, nonononono_ that’s coming from Sam, but the practical hunter side of him is thinking more logically. The yellow-eyed bastard is dead, by his own hand no less, and this sonofabitch isn’t acting like him at all, no signs of familiarity, no taunting or gloating in that annoyingly snarky manner Azazel once had.

“That’s not him,” he whispers, as much to himself as Sam. The demon comes to a halt in front of him, one hand lifting and reaching towards Dean’s chest. “Sammy, that’s not-”

His pathetic attempts at reassuring Sam are cut off abruptly when the demon’s hand is halted just centimetres from his chest.

By Castiel.

The angel appears out of nowhere and grabs the demon’s wrist, looking unusually panicked as he tugs the thing away. The demon snarls and shoves it’s other hand forward, but Cas catches that wrist too, and then to Dean’s utter amazement, he steps swiftly forward and headbutts the demon.

Sam and Dean fall away from the wall the moment the demon staggers back, and Sam makes as if to help Cas but Dean yanks him back, knowing as he does how futile it is to get between angels and demons. 

Cas has kept his grip on the demon’s wrists as they moved away from the brothers, but once they’re beyond arms reach he releases one hand and punches the creature quickly before catching its arm again. 

Dean scrambles towards the duffel bag they’d loaded with weapons as Sam hastily finishes off the exorcism chant. Five clouds of smoke stream towards the ceiling before sinking back down, the floor glowing a faint red as the other demons are banished back to Hell. Digging through the duffel bag, Dean searches for an appropriate weapon. Holy water hadn’t affected Azazel and he suspected the same would hold true for this yellow-eyed sonofabitch. Shotgun might slow it down, salt might hold it, spray-paint......

As if reading his mind Castiel calls out to him, “Dean, trap!” and that’s all the prompting he needs to pull out the can of paint and begin hastily constructing the simplest strongest trap he knows. 

“You think you can stop me? You’re halfway fallen Castiel, you don’t have the power to stop me anymore,” the demon hisses as he and Cas struggle.

“I don’t need to stop you,” Castiel pants out in reply. “Just hold you here long enough for the archangels to find you.”

Dean doesn’t bother to question how the thing knows Cas or why the hell Cas would think archangels are coming to lend a hand now when they’ve been pretty fucking absent so far. There’ll be plenty of time for questions later, hopefully. So he continues his work as Sam digs out a can of salt, adding to the trap all the symbols Cas has taught them in the weeks since Lucifer’s rise as Sam surrounds the whole thing with a thick salt line, looking strangely comical as he runs in a tight circle around Dean.

It takes roughly a minute to get the trap ready, and Dean really hopes it’s strong enough because he’s pretty sure the yellow eyes rank this particular fucker rather high on the hellish hierarchy.

Cas is already manhandling the thing in the direction of the trap by the time the brothers finish and scramble back, Sam ready with the salt to complete the line the moment the demon is pushed inside. Yellow eyes skate over Dean’s handiwork, and then the demon tilts its head back, mouth opening wide.

Several things happen at once. 

Dean lets out a yell as he sees smoke begin to escape, Castiel clamps his hand over the mouth to keep it in and the demon slams its open palm into Castiel’s chest. Cas goes flying and at precisely that moment Sam tackles the demon from the side and throws him into the trap.

Sam completes the salt line as the demon lets out an enraged snarl and hurls itself at the invisible barrier. Across the room Cas struggles to his feet and spits out a verse of something not Latin but sure as hell not English, and the demon drops as though someone cut all his strings.

There’s a moment of silence as the dust settles and Dean catches his breath.

“Sam, you okay?” 

“Yeah I’m fine,” Sam replies, and he looks okay so Dean doesn’t press.

There’s a soft rustle of fabric behind them and they both turn at the same time to see Castiel leaning heavily against a desk, and holy crap, he does _not_ look okay.

He’s breathing heavily, skin pale and shining with sweat as though he’s sick or something, and Dean isn’t sure but he thinks Cas’ arms are trembling from the effort to hold himself up.

“Cas, are you okay?” he asks, and starts to move towards the angel.

“Stay back,” Castiel orders, only it comes out more like a gasp. He throws up a hand as if to ward them away, and for a moment Dean feels like he’s walking through water. Then the hand drops back to the table and the sensation vanishes as Castiel struggles to keep his breathing even, and holy shit was he trying to push Dean back? Did wrestling the demon really take that much effort?

“You can’t come near me,” Castiel tells them, and he really is shaking now, his breathing becoming erratic as he continues. “Asmodai laid his hand on me. You can’t touch..... I can’t..... can’t touch......” he trails off, clenching his fingers round the edge of the desk and squeezing his eyes shut, breathing deeply.

“Dude you don’t look so good,” Dean tells him, edging cautiously closer.

“Dean,” Sam says softly, a warning note in his tone as Dean stops just beyond arm’s reach of Castiel.

“You need to get away from me,” Castiel tells them, the words sounding forced out as he focuses his gaze on his own hands.

“Cas what’s wrong?” 

Dean keeps his voice soft, his tone a combination of ‘talking to a scared child’ and ‘talking to a crazed killer’. Both seem appropriate for Cas right now as blue eyes snap up to meet his, the normally calm gaze filled with conflicting emotions.

“Just get out of here,” Castiel snaps.

“Not until you tell us what’s wrong,” Dean replies stubbornly. He inches closer, reaching out to rest his hand on Cas’ shoulder, and that, as it turns out, is a really bad move.

Cas flips out almost instantly under his touch, turning on Dean so fast he can barely even blink let alone react as Cas grips his jacket and slams him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Sam lets out a yell and darts forward, throwing caution to the wind in favour of helping his brother, grabbing Cas from behind and wrapping one arm around his neck, the other across his chest and pulling him off Dean.

Castiel twists frantically in Sam’s grip, breaking free and turning sharply, and Sam gets an elbow in the face for his troubles. He stubbornly refuses to release the angel though, and Castiel continues to fight him, is seconds away from snapping Sam’s wrist in fact when Dean steps in and coldcocks him from behind with his shotgun.

Castiel sags in Sam’s arms and Sam instantly switches from fighting the angel to holding him up. He looks up, and Dean’s pretty sure the shock and confusion in his eyes is an exact mirror of his own expression.

“What the hell was that?”

*****

Between the two of them they manage to manhandle Cas’ unconscious form out of the school and into the back of the Impala. They debate going back for the demon, but Cas had seemed fairly certain that the archangels would be along to deal with that, and besides, Castiel possibly going crazy is a slightly more pressing concern. So they get into the Impala and haul ass back to the motel, unloading Castiel and dumping him on Dean’s bed.

“What do we do now?” Sam asks uncertainly.

“We need to figure out who that demon was, then maybe we can figure out what he did to Cas,” Dean replies. What he really needs is to sleep for a couple of days, but that won’t be happening any time soon. Not when his bed is currently occupied by an unconscious angel of the Lord.

“Right. I’ll head over to the library and see what I can find, you should call Bobby, he might be able to help us out and uh..... do you think we need to, you know, restrain him?”

Dean’s already considering it when Sam asks, though he’s not sure how successfully they can contain a crazed angel. Cas may have gone down easily - and the simple fact they’re both still alive suggests he’s lost some of his angel mojo - but it still doesn’t sit well with him treating the guy like a prisoner. He’s still stronger than both of them though, and if he wakes up or gets away from them, Dean has no idea what he’ll do.

“I don’t know. I guess better safe than sorry?” he eventually replies.

*****

Dean collects rope from the car while Sam chalks symbols around the edge of the bed that were meant to contain angels. Cas had taught them various anti-angel methods shortly after what Dean had dubbed their Great Escape, but they hadn’t had the chance to try them out yet. Dean strips Cas of his trench and jacket while Sam does his art thing, then ties one end of the rope securely around Cas’ left wrist, passes the rope under the bed and ties the other end tightly around the right wrist. They both avoid each other’s eyes as they work, feeling oddly embarrassed to be imprisoning an angel, especially one who’s risked his life to help them on more than one occasion.

When they’re finished Sam backs off and scratches the back of his neck. He glances towards his laptop as Dean hovers awkwardly at the foot of the bed, contemplating the pros and cons of trying to rouse Castiel. Eventually Sam clears his throat in a way that Dean knows signifies an attempt at ignoring the obvious tension in the room.

“I’ll just uh- head over to the library and see if I can find anything,” he says, packing his laptop into its case.

“Right,” Dean replies absently, then pulls himself together. “Right, I’ll call Bobby, and keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty here,” Dean replies, inwardly wincing at likening one of God’s warriors to a Disney princess. It works though, Sam raises his eyebrows and cracks an awkward smile before heading out; and a moment later Dean hears the soothingly familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine starting up and moving away.

He locks the door behind Sam and chains it, makes sure the curtains are completely drawn - not wanting a nosy motel owner or guest to see the slight bondage situation going on in their room - then digs out his phone and dials Bobby.

Castiel wakes on the second ring.

*****

Castiel stirs slowly back to consciousness, looking as dazed as Dean would expect of anyone on the receiving end of a patented Winchester Knockout, although he thinks Cas should consider himself lucky it was Dean who knocked him out and not Sam. Much as he hates to admit it, Sam’s always been stronger than him and the guy can throw a punch like a champion boxer. It doesn’t bother him too much though, Sam may have the raw strength, but Dean’s always had the moves. He could still kick Sam’s ass any day.

He thinks he could anyway.

Castiel is waking up though, and as he becomes more alert he becomes increasingly aware of the ropes round his wrists that are pinning him down. He starts to tug at them before his eyes are even fully open, and Dean can see the panic setting in as he realises that he can’t break free.

“Calm down Cas,” he says, trying for a soothing tone but not sure if he’s succeeding. He’s still hovering at the foot of the bed, inside the trap but only just - ready to jump back should Cas attack him again.

Cas tries to sit up and fails miserably, but his gaze, now wide-eyed and panicky, finally fixes on Dean. He stills instantly, draws in a slow, steady breath and lays his head back on the pillow, studying the ceiling intently.

“You’re okay dude, just stay calm,” Dean says, and he can see Cas’ jaw clenching, hands curling into fists so tight that Dean’s a little worried his fingernails might be drawing blood from his palms. “Uh, sorry about the... uh...” he trails off and points sheepishly at the ropes.

Castiel glances at his wrists then turns his gaze back to the ceiling, still breathing slow and deep. To anyone else he’d present the image of perfect calm, but Dean’s gotten to know him pretty well, and there’s something about the whole picture that just seems _forced_. Cas is forcing himself to lie still and quiet, and Dean has no idea why. Trying to fight any violent urges? Or just trying to lure Dean into letting him go so he can rip Dean’s head off?

“I told you to leave without me,” Cas says after a moment, sounding just a little harsher than usual.

“Yeah, we kinda got that,” Dean replies. “What the hell happened back there? You tried to kill me.”

Castiel gives him a look that Dean could swear says _don’t be so melodramatic_. 

“I wasn’t trying to kill you Dean. I was-” Cas cuts himself off, clamping his mouth shut abruptly and turning back to the apparently fascinating ceiling. After another few seconds of forced calm breathing he turns back to Dean. “You and Sam need to get away from me,” he says, his tone quiet but urgent.

“Why?” Dean asks. He feels out of the loop, just like he had last Halloween. Dean has gotten used to dealing with angels now, and he’s also used to the annoying twisting sensation in his stomach that he gets when he knows - without needing to actually _know_ \- that the angels are up to no good. He hasn’t felt that around Cas since the guy ditched Zachariah for him, which makes him even more certain that Cas is hiding something pretty important.

“Cas. Tell me what’s going on,” he demands. “Who the hell was that demon?”

Cas sighs and tugs sharply at the ropes as though testing their strength. It’s ridiculous really, here he is demanding an angel to tell him what’s wrong, when for all he knows Cas just wants to snap those ropes and follow up by snapping his neck. Dean’s not sure if he should be ready for a fight, but judging by the expression on Cas’ face it seems more likely that he’s about to tell Dean some seriously bad news, and for some reason Dean thinks he might actually prefer it if Cas just wants to kill him.

“Asmodai is... he was a Fallen angel,” Cas tells him slowly.

Dean knows he shouldn’t be surprised - how many demons know angels by name? - but it still comes as a bit of a shock. He knows Lucifer is a Fallen angel of course, but he’s never really bothered to consider if there might be more. A Fallen angel would have to rank pretty high on Hell’s chain of command. Just like...

“As was Azazel,” Cas continues, apparently either reading his mind or making a damn good guess from Dean’s expression. “Yellow eyes are the mark of the Fallen Dean.”

Given time, Dean thinks he might appreciate the great irony in that. Here he always thought it was a demon that destroyed his family, turns out that’s all down to the angels too. He can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes him, and Castiel lets it slide in favour of continuing his story.

“Asmodai desired a mortal woman, and was banished to Hell for his crimes. He’s one of Lucifer’s most trusted servants. He’s known as a demon of lust.”

Whatever Dean was expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. Demon of lust? Under any other circumstances he’d probably be making all kinds of inappropriate jokes, but right now, with Cas tied to the bed and apparently whammied by a sex demon, he kinda feels the need to keep things professional.

“Lust demon huh? Like the Seven Sins?”

“Similar, but much more powerful. He infects his victims by touch, arousing them to the point where they lose all control, and if they can’t find a willing partner, they will force an unwilling partner.” Cas’ voice has reverted to its usual passive self, but he sounds oddly detached, as though he’s giving Dean information without allowing himself to hear it. Dean can understand why. It’s not the kind of thing that’s easy to hear, and he’s not the one currently under the influence of a powerful demon.

“But that... that doesn’t affect you right? I mean, you’re not human so-”

Cas doesn’t speak, simply turns his face away from Dean and closes his eyes. He doesn’t look embarrassed, Dean realises. He looks ashamed.

“Oh. Okay. So what can we do? What happens if you don’t, you know, work it out?” Dean asks, determined not to think about the way Cas is acting as if he’s already given up hope.

“It will burn out eventually,” Cas replies, and something in his tone makes Dean think that that option sounds pretty fatal.

“I’m guessing you mean that literally. Well since spontaneous combustion is out, I’m sure we could find someone to, uh, take care of-”

“No. It’s forbidden for angels to engage in such behaviour,” Cas cuts in forcefully.

“Yeah but Cas you already broke the rules remember? Somehow I don’t think it’s gonna make much of a difference.”

“The rules are there for a reason Dean, angels aren’t meant to feel-”

“You know you are one stubborn sonofabitch,” Dean cuts in, and for some reason he suddenly feels incredibly fucking angry at Cas. He’s never known anyone be so determined to refuse help before, particularly when their life is at stake. It’s amazing what people are willing to accept when they’re facing Death. Except Cas isn’t people, and he seems determined not to sully himself with something so human as asking for help. “I mean come on, would you really rather die alone in some crappy motel room than get laid?”

Cas stares resolutely at the wallpaper, clearly struggling to stay calm.

“It’s too dangerous,” he says.

“Too dangerous?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Under the influence of the spell, victims lose control. I’m still stronger than any human, I could hurt or kill someone. I won’t let that happen.”

Dean knows from Cas’ expression as much as his voice that he’s fighting a losing battle. They both are, Cas against whatever urges Asmodai has implanted in him, and Dean against Cas over saving his damn life. Cas is so stubborn and so fucking determined, that Dean thinks he could keep refusing even if Dean did manage to find someone to cater to his needs. 

“There’s gotta be something we can do. I’ll call Bobby, Sam’s at the library researching this guy, we’ll find something. There must be some kind of cure,” he suggests, but it’s half-hearted. If Cas knew a way to save himself Dean’s pretty damn sure he’d be sharing with the class by now.

“There’s no time.” Cas turns his face back to Dean, meeting his eyes at last, only Dean kinda wishes he hadn’t because there’s a whole mix of sadness and sincerity and regret there that makes him pretty damn certain that Cas is about to try and say goodbye.

He’s equally certain he doesn’t want to hear it. No way in hell is he letting an angel, _his_ angel, the only one he actually gives a damn about, die.

“Dean, I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing you can do for me. Just leave, please. You can’t be here when it happens.”

And that’s just fucking _it_ , Dean isn’t going to let Cas die alone in some shitty motel room because of some stupid demonic infection that if not for Cas would have hit him and Sam instead. He’s not sure how he’s going to do it but he’s damn well going to save the stubborn sonofabitch. If not with Sam’s research or some miracle cure, then there’s only one other chance......

There’s an idea forming in the back of his head - a brilliant, twisted, _stupid_ fucking idea and he can’t believe he’s even considering it, but they’re running low on options here.

“Are you sure there’s _nothing_ I can do?” he asks slowly, working round the lump in his throat. He’s moving forward now without really even thinking about it, and that’s probably for the best because this could actually work, and it’d work a hell of a lot easier if he’s not really thinking about it.

He moves closer to the head of the bed, shrugs off his jacket and drops it neatly on Sam’s bed. Cas watches him warily, and Dean notices that he’s starting to tug at his ropes again, almost unconsciously it seems.

“Dean what are you doing?” Cas asks carefully.

“You know, I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve saved Sam and me,” Dean says softly, apparently unable to shake this stupid slow seduction approach. He sits on the edge of the bed, and Cas’ body shifts towards him ever so slightly, just enough to assure Dean that this really is - if not a _good_ plan - then at least a workable one.

“I owe you. A lot. And I’m not gonna let you die, not if I can help it.” His shirt goes the same way as his jacket, and he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, ridiculously self-conscious all of a sudden as he starts to tug it up and over his head.

“Dean, no,” Cas chokes out, warning in his voice. “I won’t risk hurting you.”

“No offence Cas, but without your angel mojo there’s no way you could beat me in a fight.” 

Okay so he’s not entirely sure of that, but he’s got enough to worry about right now without adding ‘potentially violent’ to the list. He drops his t-shirt at the side of the bed, then shifts from sitting to kneeling beside Cas.

“And this’ll work, right? Sex is sex, doesn’t matter who it’s with.” He moves across the bed, sliding between Cas’ legs and leaning forward, supporting his weight with his hands either side of Cas’ head. “Let me help you,” he murmurs.

They’re both shaking, he realises. Dean from nerves, Cas from either the effort to restrain himself or arousal, he can’t really tell because all attempts at calm have been completely abandoned, and Cas looks equal parts terrified and desperate. He leans down until his mouth is inches from Castiel’s.

“Dean,” Cas whispers, sounding close to broken.

“I wanna help you,” Dean breathes, and kisses Castiel.

Cas’ entire body freezes under him for a split second, as though he’s trying to fight it. But then the desire takes over and he surges up into the kiss. 

It’s like a switch has been flipped, all traces of Dean’s stoic angel have been stripped away and replaced with desire and desperation. Cas kisses like he’s learned it from a book, which, Dean thinks, is entirely possible. The Winchester Gospels are pretty graphic after all, and Cas claims to have read them all. He’s a quick learner though, and soon he doesn’t even need to follow Dean’s lead, their lips parting and tongues sliding together before Dean’s even realised it. He wasn’t really planning for this to be so involved - hell, he hadn’t really planned at all - but he’d been thinking this would be a case of ‘lie back and think of the Impala’ and apparently that’s not how this is going to work.

He’s determined not to think about how good Cas suddenly is at kissing, not beyond attributing it to his own excellent abilities of course. Because regardless of how this goes - and he knows it has to go according to Cas’ rules for this to work - he wants to keep it as clinical as possible. Not that he’d thought it would be anything else, but when Cas grinds up against his leg and manages to slide his own thigh between Dean’s, he realises he’s getting hard way faster than he’d thought he would.

He can’t think about that right now though, not when Cas is practically humping his leg and Cas’ upper body is trembling as he tries desperately to free himself from the ropes that bind him. Dean hastily unbuttons Cas’ shirt, then pulls back and slips off the bed. Cas whimpers in protest and strains against the ropes, his whole body arching up in search of that lost friction, and Dean strips his jeans and boxers in record time before sliding back between Cas’ legs.

Removing Cas’ pants proves more of a challenge as Cas is apparently too impatient, attempting to thrust against Dean’s hand as he fumbles with the belt. But Dean manages to strip pants, boxers, shoes and socks before crawling back up the bed. Cas immediately starts trying to grind against him again, and Dean actually has to fight the urge to let him, opting instead to scrabble through the stuff on his bedside table in search of something that could serve as lube. He manages to snag a small bottle of gun oil, untwists the cap and promptly loses it as Cas manages to angle his hips so that their cocks rub together - the resulting wave of pleasure is enough for him to forget all about the clinical approach for a few seconds.

Holding onto the bottle he shuffles back and switches his attention to the rope around Cas’ wrists. He hadn’t even considered it at the time, but he now realises the added bonus to the way he’s tied Cas down - he’ll only have to untie one wrist for the other to be free. Very convenient considering he doesn’t think Cas will be able to hold back long enough for Dean to untie one wrist at a time.

He fumbles with the knot on Cas’ left wrist and just as it starts to give he has a moment of doubt and fear, but then the rope falls away and they’re past the point of no return. He barely has a split-second to brace himself before Cas surges up and pushes Dean back enough to roll them over, and then Dean is completely at Cas’ mercy.

Cas takes full advantage of his newfound freedom, his hands seem to go everywhere at once. Over Dean’s shoulders, down his chest, gripping his hips, fingers digging into his thigh and pulling him closer, angling him just right for their cocks to slide together. The sensation sends a spark of desire through him, battling the nervousness and causing him to shiver with anticipation.

Cas’ lips move away from his, kissing down his throat and biting over the pulse point as Dean struggles to strip him of his shirt. Dean arches up against him and Cas slides further down, running his tongue into the hollow above Dean’s collarbone before moving on to his chest. One of Cas’ hands is now firmly planted on Dean’s thigh, urging Dean to spread his legs and fuck, he knows he should be reconsidering this right now but he _wants_ it. God he wants it almost as badly as Cas does and he really doesn’t feel like thinking about that right now, so he focuses instead on the feeling of Cas kissing his way down Dean’s chest, pausing to lick over his nipples, grazing them with his teeth before continuing his path down.

When Cas licks a line up the sensitive underside of Dean’s cock, Dean slams his head back into the pillow and slides his hands into Cas’ hair, not entirely certain if he wants to push or pull, but needing something to hold onto. It takes a split second for him to realise that he’s already lost the lube, and he feels a moment of panic, struggling to sit up and search for it. Cas growls impatiently and slams him back down with a hand pressed so hard into Dean’s chest that Dean can already feel the bruises forming.

“Cas, I need-” he begins, but Cas apparently isn’t listening, choosing instead to slide his hand up Dean’s chest, fingers slipping over Dean’s sweat-soaked skin and pressing to his lips. Dean opens his mouth instinctively and sucks them in, hoping against hope that Cas knows what he’s doing. He swirls his tongue around the fingers, getting them good and wet as Cas’ head dips lower.

Cas adjusts his grip on Dean’s thigh to push Dean’s legs up, and Dean slants his hips up instinctively. He’s too busy sucking on Cas’ fingers to be paying much attention to what the angel is doing, so when he feels Cas’ tongue flicker along the crease of his ass he gasps in surprise and the fingers slip out of his mouth. Cas’ tongue is hot and surprisingly firm as it presses against him again and again and _again_ , teasing him mercilessly until he’s not sure he can take any more. His hips have begun moving of their own accord, arching up into every touch, and then the tongue is gone and Cas’ fingers are there instead, spit-slick and pressing inside.

Dean chokes on a moan, not wanting Cas to know how good it feels, how much he’s enjoying this. Any thought of this being a clinical treatment for Cas’ situation has long since dissolved into _wantneedsexfuckyes_ , and Dean knows it’s just some demonic infection making Cas want this, but he’s got no such excuse to hide behind. So he bites down hard on his lower lip and forces himself to just _breathe_ , and it occurs to him that this must be how Cas was feeling not ten minutes earlier, and damn but he’s gotta admire the angel’s restraint because there’s no way he’s capable of keeping that level of calm. All his energy is going on keeping quiet, but no power on this earth could stop him from thrusting his hips in time with the movement of Cas’ fingers inside him, twisting and scissoring and stretching him wide open.

Cas moves back up as he prepares him, capturing Dean’s mouth in another urgent, searing kiss that Dean can’t help but respond to. If there’s anything else he should be doing right now, to Cas or for Cas, he can’t for the life of him figure out what it is. The angel seems to be doing all the work here, and Dean can only hold on and pray that when this is over Cas won’t be completely disgusted with him for finding pleasure in what’s happening.

The moan that he’s been choking on finally escapes when Cas withdraws his fingers, and it’s a strangled mix of protest at the loss of sensation inside him, and fear. Because he knows what’s coming next and it’s _too soon_ , he’s not ready, Cas hasn’t prepared him enough and this is going to fucking _hurt_.

Cas pulls back at the sound and their eyes lock onto each other. Dean’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the overwhelming desire in Cas’ eyes, a passion so intense that for a split second Dean finds himself wishing all his partners would look at him in such a way. For a moment neither of them move; then Cas grips Dean’s thigh and shifts their position until Dean can feel the thick head of Cas’ cock pressed against him. The angel stares at him a moment longer, and Dean thinks he sees a flicker of shame before Cas’ eyes slide away and he rocks forward, pushing slowly inside.

Dean cries out in protest - Cas is too _big_ , too much, and it feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside - but this time Cas pays him no attention at all, his eyes are wide open and fixed on the join between their bodies, his breath escaping in short huffs accompanied by a moan each time, and it’s pretty obvious he’s not aware of anything right now beyond his cock in Dean’s ass. Cas rolls his hips in tight little circles, sliding deeper and deeper until he’s buried to the hilt in Dean.

Dean shuts his eyes and slams his head back into the pillow, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he steels himself for Cas to begin moving. Sure enough, Cas pulls back and thrusts in _hard_ , and Dean wishes like hell he hadn’t lost the lube because this is almost more than he can handle. The thought of escaping flashes across his mind, and he realises with a thrill of horror that he _can’t_ , he got himself into this for Cas, to _save_ Cas, and he’s going to have to see it through. After everything he’s put Cas through, all the trouble he’s caused, the heavenly beat-downs Cas has suffered because of him, he can’t back out now.

Willing himself to relax, Dean digs his fingers into Cas’ hips as Cas pounds into him, unable to stop the movement but managing to slow it just a little, soften the thrusts enough that the pain begins to fade and give way once more to pleasure - and if he wants it to feel good it’s only because pleasure is infinitely preferable to pain, anyone would agree to that.

One of Cas’ hands slides under Dean’s hips and lifts them slightly as Cas alters the angle of his own thrusts, and suddenly the sensations go from good to _fucking amazing_ as Cas slams into a spot inside Dean that ignites sparks throughout his body and forces a wrecked moan from his lips. Cas’ mouth find his throat again, alternately kissing, licking and biting as Dean slides his hands from Cas’ hips to his ass, urging him on.

Every thrust of Cas’ hips is hard and brutal and exactly what Dean needs now, lost as he is in the fucking amazing way the cock inside him drags over that fucking spot and lights a fire in his body that sparks in his stomach and spreads out to the tips of his finger and toes. His hands slip in Cas’ sweat and Cas is faring no better, so they dig their fingers in hard enough to bruise, struggling to reach completion.

It doesn’t even register for Dean that his own cock is in desperate need of attention until Cas lowers his body, trapping Dean’s erection between their stomachs, slick with sweat and _so fucking good_ , and Dean knows he won’t last much longer. Cas is getting close too, he can feel it in the way his thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, in the sharp sting of Cas’ teeth on his shoulder and the tightening of Cas’ hands on his thighs. 

Cas drags his mouth away from Dean’s throat, raises his head and crushes their lips together. It’s messy and uncoordinated but Dean doesn’t care, he kisses back - tries to anyway - and Cas moans, low and needy and desperate. Dean tries to arch up and meet Cas’ thrusts but Cas won’t let him, he pins Dean with his hands and body, and breathing is becoming an issue but Cas is too far gone to notice. His mouth falls away from Dean’s, hot breath tickling his neck as Cas buries his face in Dean’s shoulder and thrusts once, twice, three more times, sinking his teeth into the tender skin at the base of Dean’s throat, and that’s all it takes. Dean comes hard and fast, shockwaves coursing through his body as his entire world flashes white.

Cas is right behind him, a wrecked moan tearing from his lips as he follows Dean over the edge. His entire body spasms and trembles, hands blindly seeking out Dean’s and gripping them as though he’s afraid he’ll get lost if he lets go, and then it’s over. Cas is collapsing on top of him with his eyes shut, and for a moment Dean wonders if he’s actually passed out from the intensity of it all, only he’s still got Dean’s hands in a death grip so maybe not.

They lie for a moment in silence, Dean unable to move with Cas’ weight on him, and Cas apparently too exhausted to notice. Eventually though, Cas’ body stops shaking, he frees his hands from Dean’s and strokes them down Dean’s side, causing a pleasant shiver to run through him. He tangles his own hand in Cas’ hair and rests the other on the small of his back as Cas’ fingers skate lightly over his chest, across a nipple and up to his shoulder, brushing over the scar that Dean has almost forgotten he carries, and now suddenly means a whole lot more than he had ever imagined, and his shoulder tingles under the touch.

The seconds tick by as the sweat cools on their skin, and Cas’ softening cock is still buried inside Dean, only he can’t seem to care because it feels strangely comfortable. He doesn’t want to think right now, just wants to enjoy the satisfaction that thrums through every inch of him, the warm, sated feeling of a job well done. Because any second now Cas is gonna revert back to his usual stoic, unfeeling self and he’s not sure what the hell this is here, this brief moment between them, but he wants to hold onto it.

There’s no guilt here. The thought surprises him - he’s just had sex with an angel and that’s gotta be blasphemy at the very least - but Dean knows a thing or two about Heaven now, and he really doesn’t care what they do or don’t allow. Besides, if not for this Cas would have died, and Dean’s done a lot of terrible things in his life, but he’ll never be able to count saving the angel who gave him back his brother as one of them.

Reality is creeping in a little though, enough for him to appreciate if not the blasphemy, then the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, of letting an angel fuck him through the mattress in order to prevent him from exploding from lust. It’s a first for him, and he’s pretty fucking certain that it’s not something Cas has ever had to do before either. Countless millennia of existence, and this might just be the only thing left that Cas has never done. He can’t help but laugh at that, though it comes out more a huff of amusement because Cas’ weight is still crushing his chest.

“Dude, was that your first time?” he mumbles, absently carding his fingers through Cas’ hair.

Castiel’s entire body locks up.

One moment he’s lying on top of Dean, his hands tracing idle patterns across Dean’s chest and shoulders, and the next he’s pulling away, a small, panicked sound escaping him as he slips out of Dean and pushes himself back, almost falling off the bed in his haste to get away. Dean blinks, and when he opens his eyes again Cas is standing right up against the edge of the trap, his back to Dean and fully dressed, looking as though absolutely nothing has happened.

“Let me out,” he asks, _demands_ , and Dean can only stare in stunned surprise as Cas presses his hand forward and it stops in mid-air like some odd, angelic mime act, only judging from the way Cas’ arm is trembling from the effort it’s no act. It looks like the trap really does work, and it’s a little late to be confirming it, but Dean feels a flash of relief that they have a tried and true way to defend themselves from the other angels should the need arise.

He’s more interested in Cas right now though, pushing himself upright and only dimly aware that Cas hasn’t bothered to clean him up; the twinge in his ass and the sticky mess on his stomach is more than enough to prove that, not to mention the fact he’s naked as a baby, but it’s a little late to be caring about _that_. So he stands and makes his way cautiously forward.

“Cas are you okay? Is it... are you...”

“I’m fine, thank you. Now let me out,” Cas replies curtly, not even bothering to turn round and face him.

Dean reaches out to touch Cas’ shoulder, but Cas flinches away and he’s hesitant to follow. Cas may be trapped, but it’s pretty obvious from his instant clean-up trick that his powers are fully restored. He steps outside the chalk markings and circles round until he’s standing in front of Cas, but the angel refuses to meet his eyes as he normally would. He’s edgy, Dean can see it now, clenching and unclenching his fists, shifting slightly as though he really wants to be pacing back and forth but the bed is in his way.

“Are you freakin’ out on me?” he asks incredulously. “Dude we just saved your life.”

Cas flinches, visibly fucking _flinches_ at that, but he meets Dean’s eyes at least, and Dean’s not surprised by the shame or the anger, but the desperation isn’t something he was expecting.

“Dean, let me _out_ ,” Cas snaps.

“No. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Dean steps forward, puts his hand on Cas’ shoulder again but Cas smacks it away. He’s not letting this go though, so he steps back through the barrier. Cas tries to back away but the bed halts his movement, so he turns and sidesteps Dean, only that brings him right back to the edge of the trap and Dean steps up against him, invading his space like Cas has done so many times to him. He can tell Cas is starting to panic, hopes he won’t lash out as he brings a hand up to Cas’ face and tilts it so Cas has no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Dean,” Cas pleads, barely more than a whisper, and it makes Dean’s stomach hurt for some reason to have Cas so resistant to him.

“Did you not like it?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light. “Cause I gotta say, you’re kinda hurtin’ my ego here.” He smiles tentatively, pointedly ignoring the paranoid little whisper that says it might be exactly that, because really there’s no way someone could have that sex that fucking intense without wanting to do it every damn day.

“No, it was... it was... good,” Cas replies carefully, meeting Dean’s eyes briefly before looking down and addressing his shoes. Or possibly Dean’s cock, since he’s still buck naked, and there’s no point getting dressed until he’s had a shower, but he can’t have a shower until he’s gotten a straight answer from Cas, which means he’s probably gonna be standing round in his birthday suit for quite a while. 

“It was too good.” Cas continues softly, sounding as though he’s contemplating Dean’s current state of nakedness just as thoroughly as Dean is. “Too much. And not enough.”

For a moment Dean thinks Cas means he’s still under the spell or whatever it was the demon actually did to him, but then his brain catches up to the situation, and he remembers Castiel’s words from earlier - how angels aren’t meant to feel - and he realises this isn’t just about feeling in the emotional sense. It’s about the physical sensations, the feeling of skin on skin, of mouths crushed together and bodies locked in passion, the overwhelming pleasure and release of an orgasm. All things Cas has never experienced until now, and Dean has no idea why Cas continues to deny himself anything good in favour of keeping up appearances as God’s proper little soldier boy, but he’s getting pretty tired of it. Cas is already halfway fallen, and if he’s already going to face the wrath of God then he may as well make the most of his freedom until judgement day.

“You want more,” he murmurs, wanting to shake the shame that flickers across Cas’ face at his words right out of him. “Cas you don’t have to stick to the rules any more. You’re already a rebel dude, start living like one. There’s a bar just down the road, I can teach you the fine art of picking up chicks-”

He breaks off, surprised by the savage way Cas twists out of his grip, shouting “No!” with such vehemence that Dean actually feels guilty, as though he’s inadvertently insulted the angel, and perhaps he has but it’s hardly his fault, Cas just needs to quit being so damn uptight all the time.

“No,” Cas repeats, more calmly this time. “That’s not what I want.” He takes a deep breath and leans back, and Dean almost grabs hold of him before he realises that Cas isn’t falling, just resting against the invisible wall of the trap. It’s a strangely unnerving sight, seeing a guy lean against thin air.

“These... feelings... aren’t new to me Dean,” Cas begins slowly, and Dean’s about ready to sing hallelujah - regardless of how inappropriate it may be - because it sounds like Cas may actually be about to give him a straight answer here. “I’ve wanted things, I’ve felt desire. But I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, and he’s almost afraid to hear the answer, half-convinced as he is that Cas is about to tell say that it’s him, it’s Dean that’s the problem here.

Castiel drags his eyes slowly back up to meet Dean’s, fixing him with a determined look that doesn’t entirely hide the fear underneath as he says, “I wanted _you_ , Dean. Only you, I’m not interested in anything else.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but he’s got absolutely nothing. Fortunately Cas seems to have plenty more to say, as though he’s opened the floodgates and now he can’t help but let it all come rushing out.

“I don’t know why, I don’t know when it happened, but you made me _feel_ Dean. You made me care, you made me _fall_ and I did so willingly because I couldn’t stand to have you dismiss me, and now I want you, have wanted you in ways that Heaven would never allow and I don’t _care_. But I know you don’t care for me, you can barely stand to see me most days and this, you did this because you _owed_ me, as if you think that after everything I’ve done I expect something in return. But I don’t.”

He slumps against the wall of the trap, looking more tired than Dean has ever seen him as he scrubs a hand across his face, the gesture so _human_ that Dean almost wants to hug him for some ridiculous reason.

“I made my choice without expecting anything from you Dean, so the sooner you let me go, the sooner we can both forget this ever happened.”

Silence settles between them, heavy and uncomfortable as Dean turns Cas’ words over in his mind. He wants to say that this was never a case of paying back what he owes so much as helping out a friend, but it occurs to him that they’ve never really been friends. Cas has alternated between being a thorn in his side and his guardian angel, but he’s never been Dean’s friend, so why the hell is he suddenly so afraid of saying the wrong thing here? It’s not like he’s ever cared about hurting the guy’s feelings before, so why does it suddenly matter so much?

He’s still trying to work out the answer to that as he moves forward, not knowing what he’s going to say, only that he has to say it. He steps into Cas’ space again, raises his hands to Cas’ face, fingers threading into his hair and forcing him to look up, to look Dean in the eye, finding that he hates the wariness there, the way Cas watches him as though afraid Dean is about to tell him to leave and not come back.

“Cas?” he begins, making sure he’s got the angel’s full attention before he blurts out whatever the hell is in his head. “If you wanna do this again, all you had to do was ask.”

Okay, so it’s not quite what he was planning to say, not the ‘we can be friends’ speech he was going for, but what the hell. This may have started out as paying back a little of the debt he owes, but it certainly hadn’t ended that way. He’s still not entirely sure how he feels about Cas, but he does have feelings, he knows that much. Only just realising it now of course, he always was slow about this kind of thing, and it’s not like he’s suddenly discovered he’s head over heels for the guy. It’s the little things, the way he wants Cas to have something good, not just because he deserves it but because he wants him to. It’s the way he delights in all the little human mannerisms Cas has picked up around him and Sam, the way he’s come to trust Cas, the fact that despite everything Cas still has faith in him and it’s starting to make _him_ believe.

Cas’ mind-reading skills must be on the fritz though, because he jerks back as if stung, apparently unaware of the mini revelation Dean is currently having.

“Dean you don’t have to-” he begins, and Dean’s had enough debating, so he shuts him up with a hand over Cas mouth, immediately reminded of the time Cas had pinned him to the wall like this and wishing Cas could just trust him the way he’d trusted Cas.

“I know,” he says calmly as Cas stares at him all wide blue eyes and uncertainty. “But I _want_ to,” he continues. “You were a little out of it back there so you may not have noticed, but I enjoyed that just as much as you did. And honestly it’s not something I’ve ever considered before, but I’m not just here because I owe you, I’m here because I want to be. Because for whatever reason; I care about you. And I don’t know what this is, but maybe...” he trails off, dangerously close to losing himself in the sudden intensity of Cas’ stare. He closes his eyes and clears his throat, leaning his forehead against Cas’.

“Let’s just see what happens, okay?”

He can see the uncertainty in Cas’ eyes, but he also feels Cas’ hands coming up to rest on his hips, and after a moment of silence he nods, nose sliding against Dean’s, and that’s the only invitation Dean needs to kiss him again, properly this time, with both of them fully aware and able to enjoy it. Without the demon’s influence guiding him Cas is much more tentative, but he allows Dean to tease his lips apart with his tongue, and it’s not long before he’s kissing Dean back.

It’s kinda strange, and a little awkward to be pressed up against Cas when he’s fully clothed and Dean is stark naked. But he manages to slide his arms under Cas’ coat and jacket so only the buttons of his shirt are digging into his chest, and he manoeuvres himself so that his dick is pressed against Cas’ thigh rather than the hazardous territory of belts, buttons and zippers. He shifts closer, sliding one leg between Cas’ thighs, when suddenly Cas gives a muffled cry of surprise and pitches backwards, pulling Dean with him.

They collapse to the floor in an undignified heap, and Dean’s pretty sure he would have knocked the wind out of anyone else but Cas doesn’t seem to mind having Dean’s full weight pressing down on him. He glances behind them and realises that his foot had smudged the chalk on the carpet as he moved closer to Cas, that’s what caused the trap to give way. He can’t help but laugh at the bizarreness of it, and when Cas’ hesitant smile gives way to laughter he feels like he’s finally won one.

“Sam will be back soon,” Cas murmurs when their laughs have died down.

“Wouldn’t be the first time he’s walked in on me naked,” Dean mumbles in reply, strangely distracted by the smooth skin of Castiel’s throat. He licks it just because he can, half-expecting to taste some exotic, indefinable flavour, and strangely satisfied when he just tastes salt and sweat.

“I doubt he’ll be as pleased by the sight as I am.”

“I should hope not,” Dean snorts in reply, then pulls back to look Cas in the eye. “Did you just make a joke?”

“I was simply stating my opinion,” Cas replies, totally straight-faced.

“You did, you made a joke! I guess you’re picking up my excellent sense of humour.” He pushes himself to his feet and turns to offer Cas a hand, only to find the angel already standing beside him.

“Your brother is on his way,” he says. Dean sighs and heads for the shower.

It only takes him a couple of minutes to get cleaned up, and another minute to consider the possibilities of getting Cas into the shower with him, before reluctantly deciding that now might not be the best time. By the time he walks back into the room, rubbing a towel through his hair, his bed has been cleaned and made, the rope is coiled on the desk, the trap erased, and Cas is sitting patiently on Sam’s bed. 

Neither of them move or speak, but Dean can feel Cas’ eyes on him as he pulls on his jeans and t-shirt. When he’s fully dressed, Cas stands and for a moment Dean thinks he’s about to get him undressed again - sex being apparently the only thing he can think about right now - but he simply moves towards the door and unchains it, and seconds later Sam comes bursting in.

“Dean you’ve gotta start answering your phone, I found the de-”

He stops abruptly when he registers that Cas is no longer trapped or tied to a bed.

“Relax man, Cas is fine,” Dean informs him. “Whatever the demon did, the effects were only temporary.”

“Really? That’s not what the books said,” Sam says, sounding caught between disbelief and surprise.

“Really,” Castiel replies calmly. He doesn’t elaborate and Sam doesn’t ask, apparently willing to take Cas at his word what with the guy being pretty much the single most accurate source they have for angel and demon information.

“Thank you for restraining me while I was under Asmodai’s influence-”

“Any time,” Dean remarks flippantly, and Cas shoots him a look that goes unnoticed by Sam but sends a spark right through him.

“-I should ensure the archangels took care of him,” he continues. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

There’s a familiar rush of wind and the distant echo of wings, and Castiel is gone.

“So what did you find out about the demon?” Dean asks as he climbs into bed. Sam clears his throat awkwardly.

“Apparently Asmodai was a demon of lust. He infects his victims with an uncontrollable desire, and if they don’t act on it, they die. I guess it works differently for angels,” he explains, sounding like his old geek-boy self.

“Yeah well, they’re all holy and inhuman,” Dean replies casually, switching off his lamp.

“Yeah and in this case that’s a good thing, cause otherwise we might have had to... uh... you know. That would have been awkward.”

Dean knows Sam can’t see his face in the dark, but he still buries his face in his pillow to hide his smile, especially when Sam calls across to him. “Dean? You didn’t... you know... did you? There was nothing in the books about angels being immune.”

“Sam?” 

“Yeah Dean?”

“Go to sleep.”

Sam makes a soft huffy noise that could be indignation or amusement, but Dean doesn’t bother to find out. The aches and pains of the fight earlier that night are catching up with him, along with a whole different load of aches and pains from everything that happened with Castiel. He’s got bruises on bruises, but it’s hardly Cas’ fault, he knows that. In fact without the demon’s influence he figures Cas would probably be completely different in bed.

Not that he’s ever thought about it before of course, but now he’s got this silly mental image of a blushing, virgin Castiel. Which is totally ridiculous of course, demon influence or not Cas sure as hell knew what he was doing earlier, so there’s no reason for Dean to be thinking of him that way. Regardless of Cas’ apparent expertise though, Dean is pretty damn certain that next time - and there will definitely be a next time if he has any say in the matter - _he’ll_ be the one in charge.


End file.
